Feathers flashed in the sunlight like the wings of hummingbirds as
American Indians spun, dipped and pounded their moccasins to the beat of
a drum.

Dancers sported fringed buckskin pants, ermine, buffalo and wolf
pelts, and neck chokers made of buffalo horn, quills and elk teeth. They
wore beaded moccasins and shirts with multicolored stripes of cloth that
gave the dancers smooth, wind-like movements. Their heads were adorned
with the feathers of predatory birds or the hides of animal.

But one dancer's outfit stood out from the rest.

While other dancers jingled-jangled past him, Thunder-Cloud
Hirajeta's regalia remained as silent as the moon. His clothes were
the color of the sky. His moccasins were made of hide as black as soot.
Atop his head he wore a pointy, ocean-colored hat with slits on the
sides. On his shirt, he wore short ribbons dyed the color of rainbows.

As a staff sergeant, Hirajeta was wearing his Air Force blues to
the first Tinker Inter-Tribal Council powwow held last summer in Midwest
City, Okla.

Hirajeta, 24, is also a Comanche Indian.

Since Hirajeta was taking part in a dance that honored veterans, it
was not at all strange to see him there. What makes him feel a little
peculiar is living two different and distinct lives.

"During the week, I work as a warrior for the Air Force. On
Saturdays and Sundays, I'm a weekend warrior," joked Hirajeta,
a heating, ventilation and air conditioning specialist stationed at
Tinker.

However, he's quick to add they are one in the same--both are
warrior societies.

N. Scott Momaday, a Pulitzer Prize winning author and Kiowa Indian
born in Oklahoma, put it best when he said, "You'll never find
a greater patriot than an American Indian. It's not an accident
that the greatest honor that can come to an American Indian is to serve
in the armed forces."

An even greater achievement is to have been in a war, like
Hirajeta, a native of Fayetteville, N.C. He returned last spring from
Operation Iraqi Freedom where he was deployed to Baghdad International
Airport, Iraq. For two-and-a-half months, he worked in airfield
operations and combat communications.

"Indian roots are in the warriors," said Bob Harwell, a
Creek Indian and the Tinker Inter-Tribal Council's senior advisor
and one of the organization's founders. "It permeates through
them. We honor veterans, and we feel strongly about defending this
country. Many of our council members are proud of their jobs, and we
talk a lot about our war fighters, who to us are warriors."

In between dances that recognized all veterans, the festivities stopped so everyone at the powwow could honor Hirajeta's safe
return home from war. Once the drums started again, people placed money
and gifts at his feet as a sign of respect. Gordon Roy, a retired Air
Force veteran who served two tours in Vietnam, stood at Hirajeta's
side as his adopted father--not his adopted father in the classical
sense, but more of a mentor. Roy, a Ponca Nation Indian, taught Hirajeta
everything he needed to know about the ways of his people.

"It felt good to get honored," Hirajeta said. "Being
an Indian, I feel the beat of the drums in my heart and soul. It grabs a
hold of me and becomes part of me."

Later in the day, Hirajeta got out of his blues and into his Indian
regalia, which he has an almost religious connection to. Everything has
a meaning, such as the bandoliers that crisscross his chest. Bandoliers
signify everything that is Thunder-Cloud Hirajeta.

Bandoliers are air offshoot of the single Cheyenne Dog Soldier sash
that could only be worn by warriors who vowed never to retreat. In the
late 1800s, some warriors would stand and fight during times of conflict
to allow women and children to escape. Dog Soldiers, however, went one
step further. They used their sashes with pins attached to stake
themselves to the ground--restricted from moving from that spot--to
allow companions to retreat to safety, even if this resulted in death.
Only after they reached safety, or another authorized Dog Soldier
released him from his duty, was he allowed to pull the pin from the
ground.

"The Dog Soldiers were the elite military organizations of the
tribe," said Momaday, in an interview with the West Film Project
and WETA as part of a Public Broadcasting Service special. "They
were the last line of defense for the people. And so they were greatly
esteemed. They also had a song which only the members could sing, and
only in the face of death. So you can imagine what children must have
said when they saw a Dog Soldier go by: 'Ahhh, wow! Look at that
guy. He's a Dog Soldier.'"

This is what Hirajeta wanted children to feel when he had danced
earlier in his blues.

"I wear my uniform as much as possible so I can be an Air
Force ambassador to children who may see me at the powwow,"
Hirajeta said. "And they can see how much respect I receive and how
others treat me. This may inspire them to join the Air Force and to do
an honorable thing for our community."

Just as he hopes to earn a military ribbon or two for his
deployment to Iraq, he anticipated and was pleased when presented an
eagle feather for his time spent in the war.

Historically, American Indians have the highest record of military
service per capita compared to other ethnic groups, according to
Department of Defense officials. Their cultural values drive them to
serve their country, and their warrior spirit becomes one with the Air
Force.

RELATED ARTICLE: Even astronauts need mentors.

He was born in Wetumka, Okla., in 1958, and his family moved around
so much he didn't have time to grow roots in any one place. Later,
after moving to Colorado, he majored in forestry because he loved the
outdoors--especially rock climbing. In fact, he loved the outdoors so
much and the inside of a classroom so little that he earned two D's
in biology and was suspended after the sixth semester.

While assisting surveyors across the rugged Colorado landscape, he
regained interest and entered college again after being persuaded by his
supervisor. He graduated with majors in mathematics and engineering.
More than 20 years later he is now known as the first American Indian to
fly into space. That man is mission specialist John Herrington--NASA
astronaut and Chickasaw Indian.

"You can have difficulty in life and lack direction, but there
are people in your life who will make a difference. There are people out
there who can help you realize your dream," Harrington said.

The Tinker Inter-Tribal Council provides such support. Organized in
1977, the council was created as a forum for American Indians having
difficulties in their careers--personnel problems, promotion stagnation and lack of education.

"We provided career advice to the more than 600 Native
Americans who worked at Tinker at that time," said Bob Harwell, a
Creek Indian and the council's senior advisor. During those early
days, Harwell said misconceptions about Indians permeated American
society.

"There were stereotypes about Indians always being drunk, lazy
and slow. Our job is to turn those misconceptions into more positive
ideals. The first powwow we ever had as a council showed non-Indians
what Indians are all about," Harwell said.

Even the council's namesake needed help at one time.

Tinker Air Force Base was named after Maj. Gen. Clarence Leonard
Tinker, an Osage Indian born and raised on tribal lands in Oklahoma.
Early in his career, the cadet from Wentworth Military Academy in
Lexington, Mo., knew he couldn't get into the regular Army as a
military officer, which in 1908 was largely reserved for West Point
graduates.

Fortunately, the school commandant helped Tinker earn a commission
as a third lieutenant in the Philippine Constabulary. More importantly,
it eventually got Tinker into the Army Air Service officer corps in 1920
where he eventually rose to the rank of major general and commander of
the Hawaiian Department of the Army until his death, south of Midway
Island, in 1942.

Membership into the council, which meets monthly, is open to active
and retired federal employees. Of the more than 700 American Indians at
Tinker, more than 70 are in the council, making it the largest in the
Air Force, according to council members.

--Tech. Sgt. Orville F. Desjarlais Jr.

RELATED ARTICLE: Regalia and respect.

"I get into my costume every morning when I go to work, and I
wear my regular clothes on weekends when I go to powwows,"
explained Eddie "Two Clouds" Zermeno as he looked in the
rearview mirror of his Plymouth Voyager van.

He then smeared red face paint over his forehead, eyes and upper
part of his nose. Red represents blood shed in all American wars. The
Tinker Air Force Base civilian employee and member of the Tinker
Inter-Tribal Council was participating in the council's first
powwow.

As he donned his vest adorned with the colors of the American flag,
he said his regalia is priceless. He's been dancing most of his
life, and every item on his regalia he has either made, earned or had
handed down to him. He's constantly adding to it.

When he walked, bullet shells on his ceremonial outfit clinked
together like chirping crickets. The shells represent fallen comrades.
Although a dancer's outfit may be based on a particular
tribe's style, dancers may incorporate their own stories and
personalities into the regalia, like unit patches, Veterans of Foreign
Wars badges and mini-American flags.

Like nearly all others, the council's powwow helps keep alive
American Indian culture and traditions. It's a time to celebrate,
socialize, dance and feast. For the general public, powwows act as
windows into Indian culture, but there is some etiquette to follow: